Cold Glass
by maveisher
Summary: Jim Kirk was never very good at celebrating holidays. {eventual K/S}
1. Space

No one had ever told him what to do no one had laid down the law pointed out right from wrong and told him what to do the way kids should've been from birth but that was what fathers were for weren't they and he had certainly had a large gap in his life where in another universe a father would have fit nicely so who was going to tell him what to do? His mother? She hardly had a handle on herself after Jim was born let alone her two sons. The fact was no one, no one at all had told little James Kirk that respect was vital and a sharp mouth was offensive and opinions were wrong. So why it was that anyone looked at him with distaste with disappointment with defensive glares had always been beyond him. How could you blame ac child who had never been taught who didn't have the resources? He had posed the same question during church school once. "What about the kids who never learn about Jesus, do they go to heaven when they die?"

"Well the only way to get to heaven is to believe."

"But they didn't know, no one told them it's not their fault they don't know!"

"I'm sure God makes exceptions, Jim."

So if God could make exceptions and people were supposed to strive to be God why couldn't they make exceptions for him why was it his fault he didn't have parents or mentors or anyone who loved him enough to break down the way the world worked so that he might have a chance of succeeding, just a small chance of making something of himself – something someone would be proud of. He used to dream about getting lost in a city full of people and he would cry and scream but the few looks he got were of disdain, disgust, disregard, as though they couldn't believe a young boy would ever conduct himself in such a manner. But he was lost and cold and alone and scared and why wouldn't they help him he's lost he never meant to be but oh God he is and no one will help him. And the isolation he felt deep in his core after the dream would stay with him when he quietly woke up, cold sweat plastering hair to his forehead. And he would walk stiffly to the living room where his mother would be yelling at a red faced George, her eyes watering and face tearing in a grief he didn't yet understand as a young boy but damn did he feel the thickness of it in the room, choking out anyone who dared breathe. And one night he would tell his brother in the strange quiet of the night when his eyes had been watering,

"Don't ever leave me here George."

"I wouldn't."

"Promise," and his tiny voice broke on the small word he had held in his heart for so long.

"I promise."

And when he woke up George's dresser was empty and that was when he learned that it was easy to lie especially if the person you were lying to wanted nothing more than to believe everything you were saying. It was the only thing his family had ever taught him.

Jim shot up in his bed, rubbing his hands on the sides of his face demanding of his mind a happier set of thoughts. His daily quota of self pity had been more than sufficiently filled for the day. He had hardly woken up and yet already his mind was bombarding itself with regrets and injustices. He was too young for this bullshit.

He glanced at the clock through half lidded eyes and sighed in aggravation to an indifferent room. He gripped his sides with opposite arms, almost as if giving himself a hug and tried to motivate his body to get up. Come on, he had to get up. He was captain for fucks sake and this was his job no one cared about his shitty childhood or the respect he had earned but had yet to receive he had to get up.

And so, like every other morning, he did. Some small thought pushed him from the covers and over the cold floor to a brightly lit bathroom that hurt his eyes and he stood there for a moment wondering what the thought could've been.

He looked tired and cold and lonely in the mirror and thought of that one song from Mulan and how it did not apply to him at all. His reflection showed a little boy too afraid to grow up and grow attached and that was exactly how he felt at night when breathing became difficult and dreams scared him more than missions and memories were pushed aside to deal with at some undetermined time.

But once he had thought of it the song was stuck in his head and he hummed it all the way down to the bridge, realizing he only knew a handful of the lyrics. That was going to get annoying. Maybe he would look them up later just to satisfy his curiosity. Or maybe he would learn to refrain from comparing his life to Disney movies in the future.

"Captain on the bridge," called Chekov, and he wondered if it was some sort of competition to say it first because the kid had a self satisfied smile on his face when Jim sat in the chair.

"Update, Mr. Sulu?"

Jim swiveled to face his leading pilot and was met with a cheery but worn face. He wondered when Sulu got off shift and if he slept when he did. If he could sleep. They were a ship of broken down mental cases as no one had been spared the grief that came with genocide and he often wondered how much it haunted the rest of the crew because when he closed his own eyes flashes of a consumed planet still played with the horrific soundtrack of screams he had only imagined. It was a wonder no one had jumped ship yet.

"About 48 hours away from Earth, sir," Sulu responded with a smile in his tone and a hope behind his eyes that Jim wasn't sure the man had ever lost. He was probably just glad to be alive. After all, he had nearly died attempting to stop the destruction. And Jim had saved him. At least he'd had enough sense to do that.

"Great. How long have you been here, Sulu?"

"12 hours, sir."

"Jesus, go sleep. We can handle this. Nothing but smooth sailing from here, right Chekov?"

"Right, sir," the ensign replied cheerfully.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure, go." Jim waved him away good naturedly. He wished some days that he could make every wrong thing with the people on board this ship right but helping the small things was nice, too. Sulu gave him a grateful smile, tilted his head, and made his way out.

Jim looked around at the people left sitting, standing, mumbling to themselves. There was a shroud of relaxation that seemed settled around them all and Jim felt a small breathe leave him. The raised shoulders and rigid movements that had been so typical of any visible person on board seemed gone, or at least less prominent. And he knew why.

They were going home. Well, home for most of them anyway. Home for the holidays, wasn't that how the song went?

Chekov said something to a young ensign passing and she giggled and Jim smirked. They really were getting on alright. Maybe he had managed to shoulder the majority of the pain that had come with the past years on mission and that was good. He was strong enough to handle it, he knew he was. God willing his people would be smiling brightly more than he would be secretly regretting and that was all he could ask for. The only Christmas present he needed was his crew's sanity and that seemed possible for once.

"Morning, Spock," he said to the turned back, hunched over the science station. The Vulcan picked up his head and turned partially towards his captain.

"There is no relative time in space, captain, as I'm sure you know, therefore morning is a subjective term," he responded by way of greeting. Jim could only see the side of his face but knew that he was pulling his leg. Despite his constant strive for emotional incapability, Spock remained funny.

"Of course, how human of me," he laughed, crossed one leg over the other and swerved his chair back to face the vastness of space. The black seemed all consuming and Jim couldn't help but think that it was because it had swallowed many things before, he had watched it happen and where did they go? Of course he knew the answer was supposed to be nowhere. Space itself was curved and it stored the heavy things in bubbles so tightly curled they could not see them, could not distinguish them from the rest of what they saw. And yet there was another Spock sitting on a Vulcan colony some tens of light years away that said otherwise. _Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence_, he heard Bones say from somewhere in the past. Of course it was. He knew that. That's why he was there.

"Lt. Uhura," Jim called over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir?"

"What are you doing for Christmas?"

"If that's an invitation, sir –"

"No, no," he laughed lightly on the words. The assumption only pricked him a little in a deep place hidden away, "I'm just curious, I promise."

She looked him over skeptically. Uhura was always kind and caring and protective, just not always towards Jim. She had reason, of course, to be wary of him. He wasn't saying her suspicion wasn't justified, he only wished she could let it go one day, that they would be friends – good friends even – he would like that.

"I'm going to stay with my mother," she answered after a moment, a small smile hidden behind her eyes. She had wonderful eyes, and such an intelligent mind that even without her predisposed attractiveness Jim was almost completely sure she would still be the hottest girl on board.

Jim smiled, nodded. He liked knowing things about people. Little things, big things, either way they made up an entire existence that he could only get a vague understanding of in his short acquaintance with them. It was nice to know that all around him were tiny worlds existing all by themselves inside of people's heads. Comforting, almost, to know life was much bigger than him. And maybe that was another reason he was sitting on this God forsaken ship, surrounded by a soundless planet swallowing vacuum. It was a forced perspective.

"What about you, Captain?" She asked warmly, quietly, after a moment. Jim looked up, surprised.

"I'll see when I get there," he said nonchalantly with a wave of his hand, a smirk on his face. She looked sad for a moment, pitying, and Jim was taken aback by it. But the look was gone a moment later and she rolled her eyes as she always did when he said something unnecessarily suave.

"_What are you gunna do, Jimmmy?" _an angry voice rang in his head_, "You fucked it all up, where are you gunna go now? No one'll take ya!"_

"_I'll see when I get there," he answered calmly, a fire behind his eyes. _

_And she cried but she had no right to the tears. _


	2. Birthdays

_Jim could feel the cold around him, all around him, and it made life feel poignant. Red hands buried in the snow, mouth opened to dry air, and tears running cool tracks down his face, he sat. He sat and he thought of never getting up and the thought was tempting and consuming and made his mind go black with the ease of it. He closed his eyes._

_ "What the fuck are you doing out here?" George said from behind him. _

_ "Nothing."_

_ "Like hell," he walked around to face his brother head on and his expression softened when he saw the hard look that was betrayed by tears. He sighed heavily, and eased himself down onto the cold ground, wincing when he hit the snow._

_ "It'll be okay, I promise," George said quietly, bringing his arm around Jim's shoulders and pulling him closer. Jim didn't know it at the time but all of George's promises would prove to be as empty as Iowa's horizon._

_ "How do you know?" He tried to say it with venom but his voice wavered too much and his teeth chattered from the bone deep cold so mostly he sounded defeated and depressed which was how he felt anyway. _

_ "Because it's always okay," He smiled kindly down at him and Jim found himself believing. Of course it was always okay. How else did people get old and wrinkly like that if they had never gotten okay first? Okay was vital to survival and people were living longer so okay must be somewhere obvious._

_ And Jim realized later on that his brother had saved his life but he was too bitter about the empty dresser to feel thankful._

"How much longer ya think, Spock?" Jim asked the Vulcan sitting across from him during lunch. Of course, Jim knew the answer. He had to, he was captain. Besides that his inner clock was ticking away the seconds and a fear grew inside of him with every one that passed.

"Approximately 22.4 hours until scheduled arrival, Captain."

"Cool," he smiled down at his food while his stomach did flips but he ignored that to the best of his ability. He was a grown man now, not a little boy. He could spend Christmas alone and he would do it joyfully and the only way he knew how – with lots of alcohol and sex. But even that made him feel broken inside so he swallowed the empty feeling in a spoonful of mashed potatoes.

"Captain," Spock started with a curious expression on his face Jim couldn't quite name. He waited. "Jim," he started again, "What are your plans for this shore leave?"

"My plans?"

"Yes, I remember you told Lt. Uhura that you would "see when you got there" but I imagine you have some sort of outline imagined and I am curious as to what that is."

"Curious?" Jim asked with a smirk and Spock gave him what looked to be a mental eye roll. Jim sighed heavily then and ran a hand clumsily over his face. "I honestly have no idea, Spock," and he was surprised by how vulnerable he felt telling him that.

"Does typical human culture not dictate this season as a time for family?"

"I've never been a family man," he deadpanned.

Spock hesitated for a moment, "In that case, Captain, I was wondering if you would not be opposed to me coming with you to where ever it is that you are going," Spock looked down at his food and Jim could've sworn he was nervous, anxious, scared, even if nothing on him showed it. Jim knew the feelings well.

"That would be great actually, Spock, I'd love to have you with me," and he was being honest. The twisting in his stomach eased up a bit when he imagined facing the cold gray skies of where ever with his first officer at his side. The loneliness could be shared and somehow that would make it better.

Spock nodded and Jim saw a kind light in his eyes.

"Morning, folks," McCoy sat himself down heavily next to Jim and didn't even bother making eye contact with the two previous residents before getting to work on his food. Slowly the doctor looked up at the silence and between the two men.

"Something wrong?" He asked through a mouthful of food.

"No, no," Jim said quickly, pushing his tray forward a bit, "Spock's just surprisingly quiet today."

"Good."

And Jim laughed, thinking that maybe the holidays_ were_ a time for family and that maybe this year he had one.

"Are you gunna visit Joanna while we're down there?" Jim asked hopefully. He knew how difficult it had been for Bones to get into contact with his daughter due to harsh words and painful memories and how he wanted nothing more than to take those back. Time heals, they always said, but Jim knew that was lie and so did Leonard.

"God willing," was all he said in response.

Spock suddenly stood, "I must get going, there are several reports I must file with Starfleet before we land. Captain, Doctor," he tipped his head to each of them and walked away, his hands tucked neatly behind his back and his tray left on the table.

"Does that damn Vulcan think we're gunna to clean up after him?" McCoy demanded, gesturing vaguely towards the filled tray.

"What do you mean _we_?" Jim asked in mock misunderstanding and stood, leaving his own tray behind as well.

"Hey!" Bones called after him but he knew it was useless, Jim wasn't going to come back. "Damn kids," he mumbled under his breath, but a fondness for both of them laid hidden beneath the layers of indifference.

"Spock! Wait up," Jim fell into step with his science officer, "I wanted to actually, uh, thank you," He wrung a hand around the back of his neck and looked sideways at Spock who was looking sideways at him.

"I do not understand your meaning, Captain."

"I wanted to thank you."

"Yes, I have assessed that much."

"I mean, for asking if you could come with me. I didn't –" Jim broke off, unsure of what to say, how to articulate that he was so fucking grateful to Spock. But in order for the Vulcan to grasp the full extent of it, Jim would need to explain why it was he was so afraid to go home alone and that wouldn't do so he stopped and could not find a way to start up again.

"Yes?"

"Nothing, never mind, I just – it'll be nice to have you along."

"You have previously expressed that sentiment, Captain, but I appreciate your enthusiasm in the matter." And Jim knew that Spock was being a cheeky bastard. He was just glad the conversation had taken a light note when it could've gone horribly awry and suddenly he wondered why it was he had felt such a great need to express any of this to Spock in the first place. It was unnecessary and Spock certainly didn't need the reassurance, he was intelligent.

"I do, in fact, have reports to file, Jim, so if you are done –"

"Oh yeah, sorry. That was all. Back to work, Commander," he held up his hand in a mock salute and Spock nodded towards him once more, walking into the turbo lift at the end of the hall.

_ "Are you almost done, Jim?" his mother called from the hallway, a small knock at the door, "We really need to go." _

"Captain?" a voice came through the door, a short knock following.

Jim made his way over, already knowing who he would find on the other side before he opened it, "Sulu, what's up?"

"Uh, well, a couple of us were planning to play a game of poker. You want a hand?"

Jim thought for a moment. All of the things he could do instead of poker seemed not at all tempting, mostly because they would all lead to thinking and he didn't like spending too much time on that when he didn't have to. "Yeah, sure, why not? When?" he leaned against the side panel of the doorway.

"In about twenty minutes, down in the rec room on deck four."

"I can't promise I'll be on time, but I'll be there."

"Great," Sulu smiled, "I'll see you there, sir."

"Hey, Sulu," the man turned around a few inches from the door, "don't call me sir if we're not on the bridge."

"Sure thing," and his smile warmed.

_He heard a sigh outside of the door and slowly it creaked open. He pulled the covers over his head. "Jim," she sounded disappointed. She always sounded disappointed. _

"You said Jim's coming?" He heard Bones' voice coming from inside the room before he even hit the doorway.

"He said he probably wouldn't be on time," Sulu responded reasonably.

"Figures," McCoy snorted.

Jim walked through the door and found a relatively large group seated around one of the coffee tables on assorted couches and chairs. Chekov and Sulu sat together on one, Bones singularly to their right, Uhura and Scotty across from him, and Spock across from the two pilots.

"It's alright, it's okay, I've arrived," Jim said as dramatically as he could and took a seat next to his first officer. McCoy rolled his eyes.

_"You're still in bed? Sweetie, we need to leave," She sat down on the end of the bed and Jim pulled the covers ever tighter around himself. "It's your birthday; we can't have it without you."_

"I can't believe I was cleaned out by a damn seventeen year old," McCoy ran a hand through his hair and threw his cards down on the table, exasperated.

"That damn seventeen year old is a damn prodigy," Jim laughed and threw his cards down as well, stretching into the couch.

_"I don't want it," he cried out and his mother scooted closer to him, but he continued to enclose himself further and further in the blankets. _

"It is not my fault I'm better," Chekov said with mock innocence.

"Bloody kid," Scotty muttered.

_"Why not?" She said with a kind disbelief, attempting to pull the covers from over his face. _

"I demand a rematch," Sulu decided.

"I don't think it'll do much good," Uhura smiled, "you're not exactly _good_ at this game, are you Hikaru?" and she giggled on the end of the sentence.

"She's right you know," Chekov nodded in agreement.

_A soft crying could be heard from underneath all of the materiel. _

"Well we can't all be Russian geniuses!" Sulu had a smile on his face.

"Obviously not," McCoy responded, covering his smirk with a hand over his mouth.

_"Honey, what is it?" she stopped trying to free him of his self made cage. _

"I'd love to see Chekov and Spock go at it in chess," Uhura said a few seconds later. Sulu began laughing.

"I'd put my money on Mr. Spock," Scotty decided.

"I don't know, I think the kid could hold his own," Bones threw in.

_"I killed daddy, didn't I? It's my fault," he sobbed into the blankets – the kind of suffocating sobs that left you gasping. _

"I would not be opposed to testing the hypothesis," Spock said with a smile in his eyes.

"You just wanna prove me wrong, you damn Vulcan."

"I will get a board," Chekov jumped up excitedly.

_"Oh God, sweetie, no, no, it's not your fault. Why would you think that?" her voice cracked on the words. _

"You will be black and I will be white," Chekov set the board down on the table.

Spock nodded.

_"You're always so sad on my birthday," he choked on the words. _

"Dammit, Chekov, he's beating you to a pulp," McCoy complained.

"Is this difficult for you at all?" Sulu marveled.

"No, no, oh no, it's not your fault. It could never be your fault. Don't ever think that."

"I thought you were genius," Scotty laughed.

"He is a Vulcan!" Chekov exclaimed, clearly outraged by the accusation that he was not, in fact, a genius.

"That's no excuse," The engineer joked.

_"Then why do you cry?" he sniffed, head still concealed. _

"Jim, are you seeing this?" McCoy said, smile in his voice.

_"I don't – it's not your fault, I promise. Your daddy was very, very brave. He stayed on the ship to make sure everyone got out okay. That's not your fault, he wanted to see you, he did, but he also wanted you to live and the only way to do that was to stay on the ship. Mommy misses daddy, that's all. It's not your fault."_

"Jim?" McCoy turned towards him, smile gone.

_"Promise?" he took his head out from under the blankets, eyes read and nose dripping._

"Jim?" He said again, louder this time.

_"I promise," and her eyes watered and he believed her. He still believed her. But he wasn't sure how long she had believed herself. _

"I think I'm gunna knock off," Jim finally said, coming back.

"But the night is young, Captain!" Scotty exclaimed.

"Sorry guys, I'm just tired. Big day tomorrow, ya know? I'll see you guys later."

_"You killed him!" She screamed years later, "I could've had him but now all I have is you and you're not worth it Jimmy! You were never worth it!" _

_"Don't I fucking know it?" and he slammed the door in her face. _


	3. Trains

His alarm rang and he jumped up, turning it off as quickly as possible. He hated the sound of alarms. His eyes still felt heavy, his legs too weak, but he knew he had to get up anyway. He looked around the dark room unsure of what he was looking for, but knowing that he had found none of it and sighed. Two weeks. They were only going to be on Earth for two weeks. He could handle that. Hardly any time at all, really, after two years in space. Just a couple of minutes in a life time.

He threw his legs over the bed and his feet hit cold floor.

_"Merry Christmas!"_

He'd had the sense enough to pack the night before, so there was a bit less rush in his morning routine. Of course, the ship itself was a mad house. With "arrival in approximately 1.3 hours, Captain," it was no surprise that everyone was rushing to be ready. No one wanted to stay on board longer than they had to. They only had two weeks, after all, and some, like Chekov, had entire countries to pass before they were home. He still wasn't sure where he should be headed. Anywhere but Iowa, he supposed.

_"Merry Christmas, Mom! Get up!"_

The crew had taken it upon themselves to festively decorate the ship. The mess hall had strings of golden lights surrounding its borders and the turbo lifts had wreaths. Jim wasn't opposed to it, in fact, he kind of liked it. It gave the entire place a very human touch that he hadn't realized he'd missed. They had, however, refrained from putting any mistletoe up. Over all a disappointing choice, in Jim's opinion.

"What the hell are you doing just standing around?" McCoy came up behind Jim and pulled him from his thoughts.

"What?_ I'm_ all ready."

"Well then you can help me, because I'm not."

"Leonard McCoy? Unprepared? Never."

"Oh shut up, Jim. I had a late shift."

"Excuses, excuses."

_"Come on, Mom!"_

"Just throw any sweater you can find in the suitcase," Bones said with his back turned, hands picking through his unorganized drawers. Jim followed his advice and started at a pile of clothes shoved in a corner. Sharing a dorm with him at University had been hell. For all that Bones acted like he was more mature and saner than Jim, he had shit organization skills. After they started living on the Enterprise, Jim had taken to keeping his room practically spotless.

McCoy suddenly stopped his rummaging and sighed. "What're you doin' Jim?" He said it as though he had been waiting to, as though the question were heavy on his mind.

"Digging through your old laundry."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "No, I mean, for two weeks on shore lace. What're you gunna do all by yourself? Now, I know you're a smart kid, but I don't feel right about letting you wander alone only to take up refuge in some God forsaken bar in the middle of nowhere. Who's gunna take you to the hospital when you get alcohol poisoning? Now, I know I said I needed to go by myself to see Joanna but –"

"No, no, Bones, you go." I don't wanna screw things up for you. Besides, Spock's gunna look after me. He won't let me do anything even remotely illogical, I promise."

Though he wouldn't admit it, Jim felt a little burnt by Bones' accusation. He was actually capable of looking after himself, but he knew his friend meant well by it so he would push it aside. He would pretend the distrust didn't hurt because people had always thought the worst of him, anyway.

"Spock?" the doctor said in surprise.

"Yeah, he didn't have anywhere to go and he asked if he could tag along with me. Well, it was more like 'I would not be averse to putting up with' but it was still a pleasant surprise."

McCoy gave Jim a funny look.

"What?"

Unexpectedly, he smiled a - knowing look in his eyes - as he shook his head, "Nothing, nothing."

"No seriously, what?" he felt an itch of annoyance.

"I just can't believe you're spending two weeks with a damn lizard. God help ya."

Jim laughed.

_"Mommy?"_

"You all set to go, Spock?" Jim came up behind his first officer and laid a hand heavily on his shoulder, picking it up again quickly. _Touch telepath_, he silently reminded himself for the umpteenth time. Spock had never formally corrected him, but he didn't want to risk making him uncomfortable.

"I believe so, Captain." He responded. Steady. That was the word that came to mind when Jim saw Spock. He was always there. Always. And he was dependable. Jim would trust him with his life – had trusted him with his life. _I have been, and always shall be, your friend._ Side by side, the two of them, facing the universe - the endless planet-swallowing vacuum. Because Spock had lost not just _a _world but _his_ world and Jim could never begin to understand that pain but he'd be dammed if he didn't try to sympathize anyway.

"Great. Estimated arrival?" he placed his hands neatly behind his back, mirroring his first.

"Approximately five minutes, sir."

"Jeez, shouldn't we be on the bridge, then?"

"My next words were going to be a question regarding that particular curiosity, Captain."

"Well shit then, let's go."

_"George!" he sped through the house._

"You keep your eyes on him at all times, ya here me?" McCoy's index finger was nearly touching Spock's nose.

"I was not aware the Captain required constant supervision, Doctor."

"You know damn well he does, don't act stupid Spock , it doesn't look good on you."

"I don't actually need a babysitter, if anyone was wondering."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jim."

"I must agree with the Captain on this matter, Leonard, considering Terran culture prescribes 'babysitters' to those still in the infantile state. Bearing in mind that Jim has surpassed that young state of human life, a 'babysitter' is, in fact, unnecessary."

"See, Bones, Spock gets it."

"Damn Vulcan."

"Are you two ever going to get along?"

"If previous experience is any indication –"

"No."

Jim laughed.

_"What? What is it?" George was still half asleep, his voice thick with it._

The crew was all crowded around the outside of the ship, saying farewells.

"You'd think they were all leaving for good," Jim said, amused. People were tearfully hugging, others promising in earnest that they would, indeed, see each other soon.

"It is a most illogical display."

"You only think that 'cause you don't have a heart," McCoy mumbled to himself.

"Play nice," Jim joked.

"Spock!" Uhura suddenly came up to the group, bright smile on her face. "I was hoping I would get to say goodbye," and she wrapped her arms around him. Gently, if not stiffly, he brought his hands up to rest on the small of her back.

"We will see each other shortly, Nyota," he said it fondly, with a smile in his mind.

"I know, but I'm still going to miss you," she broke away and looked up at him, face still glowing.

"What, no goodbye for your Captain?" Jim teased.

Nyota rolled her eyes, but continued smiling.

"Take care of him," she said. And Jim realized he wasn't the only one who had a friend to look out for him. Uhura really was an extraordinary person.

_"Mom's not waking up, George."_

"My family's right in southern California," Sulu was telling Chekov, "so no white Christmas for me."

"Come with me and it will all be white," Chekov grinned widely.

"Don't go changin'," McCoy squeezed Christine Chapel tightly.

"It's only two weeks, Leonard," she laughed.

"Well, take care, lass." Scotty threw one arm around Uhura. She kissed his cheek.

"Don't blow yourself up while I'm gone." Scotty's face reddened and he broke into a grin. Jim noticed Uhura make eye contact with Spock, who raised an eyebrow. She blushed slightly and shrugged.

Jim watched them all fondly, a smile at the sides of his mouth.

_"What?" George shot up and quickly got out of bed._

People pushed around the two Starfleet officials. Jim tried to take the majority of the shoves, ever conscious of Spock's distaste for touch. It was nice though, the change of scenery. He loved his ship, more than anything he loved being able to travel in space with a fantastic group of people behind him, but he had missed humanity. Simple and unadulterated humanity. It was like a breath of fresh air to be back on a planet full of people. His people.

The train station was casually decorated for the season, giving the whole place a rather quaint feeling. Men dressed in red suits rang small bells and Christmas music played loudly over the speakers, only just detectable over the rush of life. It was like something out of a movie.

A lot of Jim's life was like something out of a movie, he supposed, just not the good kind. He was the type of movie that left you a nervous mess after you had finished it because the story line wasn't tied up and the main character had died and who the fuck ends a movie on a cliff hanger, anyway?

Jim decided against making any kind of sane decision and bought two tickets for the next departure. Fate would choose for him because he was too indecisive to do it himself.

Baggage towing behind him, he beckoned Spock towards him. He held one of the mystery tickets out to him.

"New York City?" Spock asked uncertainly, reading the ticket Jim had just handed him.

"Really?" he looked down surprised at his own slip of paper.

"Was this not planned?"

"I told you I didn't know what I was doing."

"Clearly you are not as prone to exaggeration as I had originally thought."

Jim grinned.

_"Mom?" George yelled it through the house._

"I've always wanted to go there, you know."

"I did not."

"Yeah, I lived kinda far away as a kid so we never went."

"I must attest to the same predicament."

Jim turned to look at him. They met eyes and Spock raised a single eyebrow. Jim felt his face break into a smile. He had no idea what Bones had been talking about, two weeks with Spock was going to be fine.

Jim picked his rolling case up, hauled it with him through the narrow stairway, and placed it on the train's carpeted flooring. Spock filed inside shortly afterwards.

"Where to?"

"I have no preference."

"Didn't think you would."

He looked from left to right, down both identical aisles and decided on the left. He tugged his bag behind him once again and glanced into each compartment as he passed. Even though trains were a relatively fast way to travel, it was still going to take them two days to get all the way from California to New York City. They were traveling cross country. Because of the long ride, the train was nice. The kind of nice you could live in if there was a zombie apocalypse or something. Jim would definitely have this place as one of his top shelter destinations if anything of the sort ever happened.

The doors and floor were all a classy dark wood, save for where the floor was covered in deep red carpeting. Jim entered one of the empty compartments to his left and saw that the seat upholstery was a similar color. The windows were spotless and the compartment above their heads had more than enough room for both of their bags. Even if New York was a bust, this train ride would certainly be worth the credits.

"Fancy," he decided aloud, lifting and shoving his bag into the available storage. Spock did the same.

"It is a rather nice form of transportation. I have never had need to use the Terran train systems."

"Me neither, actually," Jim picked at the seat covering absentmindedly as he sat down on the side which faced the front of the train. Spock sat down across from him.

"The ticket said two days?"

"Yes."  
"That's not so bad, I guess. This train is kinda cool. Like something out of those old pre-warp books, Harry Potter."

"I do not understand."

"You've never heard of Harry Potter?! And here I was, thinking you knew everything."

"I would not be opposed to an explanation."

"Really? Well, alright, if you insist," Jim leaned back in the seat getting comfortable, and started the story, "There was this really shitty family that lived on Privet Drive…"

_"Call 911, Jim! Go!" George yelled at him with tears in his eyes as he pressed two fingers to his mother's neck. _

_So Jim did and the ambulance showed up loudly in their driveway and he never forgot the piercing sound or the people rushing in or the calm, concerned voice of the woman on the other end of the telephone line. "Just tell us where you live, sweetie, I need your address and then we'll be right there."_

_His mother was fine, in the end. She had picked up a virus on one of her off planets missions that she hadn't properly taken care of. She was fine. But all little Jim Kirk knew was that he had almost lost his mother and he never wanted to do that again. That was the first moment he knew he loved her not because someone had told him but because it was true._

Jim had finished explaining late into the ride and fallen asleep shortly after. He didn't know, but Spock watched him quietly after his eyes were closed thinking that Jim Kirk was just as brave as any wizard named Harry. 


	4. Physics

a short update but i am still writing like as i type this so more to come.

also i haven't said this yet but reviews really are crazy appreciated. The more reviews, the faster i'll update honestly, 'cause then i know people actually want to read this.

thank you all for staying with me this far!

* * *

_Jim had grown up in the never ending fields of Iowa with nothing but corn for miles and miles, and only flat roads to walk on. The landscape was burned into his mind, the bright blue sky contrasting against the plain cream of the crops. _

_At night when he would look up at the sky it was unblemished and unblocked by any sort of natural landscape. He would walk out the front door when the air was cooler and shoeless he would step into the moist grass, feeling the ground against his bare feet and inhaling. Laying his back against the ground he would stay for hours, unaware of the passing time, thinking only of the endless vacuum that separated him from everything else, everyone else. It was quieting. _

_By the age of eight he knew he was smarter than the other kids. He also knew they didn't like it. He wasn't the kind of intelligent you were praised for by peers, by teachers, by other people's parents. They thought he was over ambitious, a show off. He dedicated an obscene amount of time to sciences and maths because those were what he liked best but he was not encouraged by anyone except his own mother. She alone was proud of her genius son. So proud._

_"Just like your father," she would say with a loving look. But he could see she was scared, too. Just like his father, sure, but his father was dead. Killed by science and math. She didn't want him to go the same way. He knew that even from the young age of nine when he showed a particular interest in physics. Star Fleet was no place for a man who wanted to live and so he strayed from ever telling his mother how he dreamed about the stars, always the stars, and the secrets and adventures they held for him. It would break her heart._

_By the age of ten Jim had learned the basic outline of quantum mechanics and that getting punched in the face gave you a black eye for a month. So when his mother got married to a man who expected to be called dad he gave up on string theory and started punching back. That was what had broken her. Winona had always seen too much of her dead husband in Jim's eyes and that no longer worked to his advantage. All she could see now was a reckless child who had been too indulged by her own grief. She tried to compensate and the effect was devastating. _

_"I don't understand why you have to be like this, Jim!" She shouted one night when the school had called, telling her that her youngest son had gotten in yet another fight at school. He sat at the table mournfully, tears running down his face and nose filled with snot. He regretted it with all of his being. He was only ten years old and he didn't want to fight but he did because his mother cared more about her new husband than her sons and he had stopped being told how proud she was of him, what a smart boy he was, and George had taken to telling him everything was his fault under his breath when he thought Jim couldn't hear and the boy at school had told him his mother drank too much so he hit him. The psychological word for it was projection, pushing your anger on someone who had nothing to do with the actual problem – Jim knew that. He had studied psychology for about a month previously before deciding it was all crap anyway. People were who they were and he didn't need medical terms for what was wrong with him. _

_"Now really, Jimmy. This has got to stop," the new husband had his arms crossed over his chest and spoke quietly. _

_"Don't call me that," he snapped before he could think about it. He was the only one that called Jim that and he hated it more than he hated anything. Jim was not his to nickname and he was too proud a ten year old to take such nonsense from a man who tried too hard to be a father to a boy who could never have one._

_"Jim!" His mother scolded him sternly, and then began to cry, "What happened, Jim? You used to be such a smart boy," She sobbed into her hands and the new husband came and wrapped an arm around her, throwing a disapproving look Jim's way. It didn't matter. Nothing could have hurt him more than what his mother had said. You used to be such a smart boy. That was the exact moment he decided to never again try. He gave up on special relativity and the uncertainty principle and took instead fully to a rebellious streak that would define his childhood and kill any humanity that had been left in his mother. He had destroyed her himself and that was the reason he could never look her in the eye as she yelled in later years. _

_"It's all your fault, Jimmy! You killed him!" She would scream and sob on the last words, body curling in on itself in a fit of crying and coughing, "I don't understand why you would do this to us."_

_Neither did he._


	5. PTSD

Acute Stress Disorder (ASD): The severe stress disorder suffered by people after events categorized as catastrophes*. Symptoms of ASD occur within 4 weeks of the traumatic event and include anxiety, dissociative symptoms (such as emotional numbness/lack of responsiveness, not being aware of surroundings, dissociative amnesia), recurring nightmares, sleep disturbances, problems in concentration, and moments in which people seem to "relive" the event in dreams and flashbacks for as long as one month following the event. When the symptoms associated with ASD last for more than one month, the disorder is then called post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), (Ciccarelli, 348).

*catastrophe: an unpredictable event that happens on a large scale and creates tremendous amounts of stress and feelings of threat (wars, hurricanes, floods, fires, airplane crashes, and other disasters).

"Why Starfleet?" Jim asked Spock, who was still sitting across from him on the old-fashioned train. He looked at him for a moment, eyebrow raised, looking as though he wass going to say, "I do not understand your specific questioning, Jim. Would you please elaborate?" But he does understand, and so he leaves that formality unvoiced and simply sits in silence, contemplating an answer.

Why Starfleet? It was a question Jim had, had in his head from the moment he'd seen the man stand up in the court room those few years ago. It was not a prestigious job on Vulcan, nor an encouraged one. Strange, he'd thought at the time, that someone so intelligent would waste their life in a job that could easily get them killed. Strange, he thought now, that if it weren't for Bones sneaking him onto the Enterprise, Spock would've been killed his first day out. Dangerous. The whole business was dangerous and he had never been sure why a Vulcan would subject themselves to it. It wasn't a very logical choice to make.

"Because of my mother," he said after a moment.

That took Jim by surprise. Spock never spoke about his mother. It was a taboo subject and Jim could understand why. Well, he could try to understand, anyway.

Spock had never divulged the extent to which he cared for his mother - to Jim, to Nyota, to anyone. He cared so much for the way she had wished him good luck and whispered I love you's before school. The way she hugged him tightly after a particularly good grade report. The way she smiled brightly, "Oh Spock," she would say with an indescribable fondness in her eyes. Her love of music and food and novels. She was so human and Spock had always wished he could be more like her. He was only half. Half Vulcan, half human, he did not fit into any comfortable mold. But his mother made him feel like he didn't need to. He had lost that sense of love and belonging as the rock had broken away and the empty transporter pad appeared in front of him.

"Really?" Jim responded quietly.

Spock nodded, smiling with his eyes alone. Jim waited. He knew if Spock wanted to explain to him, he would do so on his own.

Jim suddenly remembered the first time him and Spock were on a ship together when Vulcan had been destroyed and a Spock from another universe had given him advice.

_"My planet has just been destroyed. I can tell you, I am emotionally compromised. What you've got to do is get me to show it."_

And getting Spock to show it was one of Jim's biggest worries. It was one of those things that kept him awake at night when he would think about that mission. He was sorry. So sorry. And he didn't know how to fully express that in words, so he didn't.

_"What is it with you, Spock? Your planet was just destroyed, your mother murdered and you're not even upset."_

_"If you are presuming that these experiences in any way impede my ability to command this ship you are mistaken."_

_"And yet you were the one who said fear was necessary for command. I mean, did – did you see his ship? Do you see what he did?_

_"Yes of course I did."_

_"So are you afraid or aren't you?"_

_"I will not allow you to lecture me about the merits of emotion."_

_"Then why don't you stop me."  
"Step away from me."_

_"What is it like not to feel anger? Or heartbreak? Or the need to stop at nothing to avenge the woman who gave birth to you?"_

_"Back away from me."_

_"You feel nothing! It must not even compute for you! You NEVER loved her!"_

Spock had reared back and punched him and all he could think was that he deserved it. God, did he deserve it. Because it was all true for himself, not for Spock. His poor mother laying in an early grave and what had he done to avenge her? Had he ever even loved her?

"I believed that by entering into the Vulcan science academy I would be turning aside from my human half. By doing so it did not seem likely that I would ever find true peace within myself. Starfleet seemed like the next logical choice," he said after a long wait. Jim nodded silently, feeling as though that wasn't the whole explanation – maybe not even the most important part of it – but he accepted it anyway.

"Makes sense," he smiled up at his first officer.

"That is why I chose it, Jim," Spock quirked an eyebrow and Jim laughed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Right. Sorry. Irrelevant comments are usually my only form of response."

"On the contrary, I have found you are an exceptionally intelligent human who continually speaks with adequate dictation. Indeed you seem to surpass much of your race, verging on the human label of "genius"."

Jim smiled, "Awe Spock, I'm blushing."

"Indeed you are," and the Vulcan smiled with his eyes.

Jim laughed and felt himself panic inwardly. He was? Why? Jim didn't blush. God above, he wasn't some high school girl with a crush. He wrung a hand around the back of his neck, looking away from the Vulcan.

He looked back. Spock was staring at him curiously.

"What?" he couldn't help his mouth turning up as they both continued staring at each other. Jim took the strange moment to look at Spock's face, his whole face, for probably the first time. There wasn't much time for idle staring on a starship, after all.

He traced his sight from the arched eyebrows that distinguished him as a Vulcan, to the dark eyes framed by surprisingly long lashes to the cheeks tinged slightly green (great God, Spock was blushing too), to the partially parted lips he found himself lingering on. Spock was rather - pretty, actually. In a way of appreciation it was obvious, really. He had an elegant face that didn't make a big deal of itself. The sort of pretty everyone could admire.

"I am unsure," he said slowly.

"What?" Jim asked, coming out of his thoughts.

"You had previously asked me the same query, Jim, and I responded."

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry." He sighed, broke the eye contact, and looked out the large window next to him. His neck hurt as he turned his head. Unfortunately he had fallen asleep the previous night with his head tilted against the window uncomfortably. Normally he didn't think he would've been able to sleep in such a position but his body was probably just so desperate for sleep at this point that it did what it had in order to get any rest at all.

"Are you in pain?" Spock asked to Jim's surprise. He looked back at his first officer with an open face.

"I just have a sore neck from sleeping so weird," Jim shrugged and rolled his shoulders, moving his head from side to side, "it's nothing," he promised casually.

Spock looked as though he were thinking for a moment, thought better of the thought, and instead nodded his head lightly, looking mildly concerned.

"I'm not gunna die from a stiff neck, Spock. Promise," he laughed lightly on the words.

"While that would, indeed, be highly unlikely, I suspect it is not merely a stiff neck which ails you. As a half Vulcan I require much less sleep than a human would and therefore had no reason to rest last night as you were. During that time I could not help but observe you as you slept," Spock rushed through all of this rather quickly and Jim actually felt his face warm up a bit. "You seemed rather restless, Jim, and spoke often in your sleep. While I am aware that most humans deem this normal behavior, it is, in fact, unhealthy to do so as often as you seem to as it shows you are not getting any hours of REM sleep which is necessary for proper health." Shit. Jim talked? He hadn't said anything bad, right? He was too afraid to ask and figured Spock probably wouldn't tell him the whole truth, anyway. The Vulcan would be sure to tell McCoy as soon as they got back on board the Enterprise, though.

"Oh," was all he could think to say in response. Jim knew damn well his sleeping habits were a problem, that he wasn't mentally stable, that he had all sorts of medical issues brewing in the background, but he didn't want other people to know that, too. They might try to fix him. He didn't need to be fixed – he just needed to push through it.

"How long have you found sleeping a difficulty, Jim?" He said it rather quietly, delicately – if Vulcans could say things delicately.

Jim looked at him through tired eyes, far too tired for a twenty-six year old. Where had his youth gone?

"Years, Spock. Years."

"Have you not informed Doctor McCoy?" He asked in honest surprise.

"Why would I? So sometimes I can't sleep, I can work through that," Jim did his best to give a cheap grin but Spock was having none of it. The first officer looked genuinely concerned. Well, as concerned as a Vulcan could look, anyway.

"I am certain you can, but that does not mean you should do it alone."

Jim stared at him. What an oddly emotional thing to say. Spock looked away from him and instead turned his head towards the window.

"I took the opportunity last night to research our current destination, as well," Research New York City? How did someone research one of the biggest cities on the planet? "And found many residencies which were available for two weeks of stay," Yeah they were probably all crazy expensive too, but they were the Captain and First Officer of the most famous starship in the fleet. They could afford it. "From my research I have also determined that even without planned criteria, I am certain we will have no difficulties filling two weeks' worth of time." Well, Jim could've told him that, but he didn't say it.

"Great. Knowing you, though, you probably do have a few particulars in mind, so lay 'em on me."

"I find that there are many intellectual centers with which I would be interested to see," Jim rolled his eyes fondly, "as well as traditions that seem typical of one-time Terran visits, such as Broadway shows and viewing the central park at the center of the city."

Jim couldn't help it, he laughed, "You wanna go see a Broadway show?"

"The experience sounds fascinating. Nyota has many times expressed to me her love of musicals and, indeed, music in general. The way in which she describes the Terran productions makes them a thing of interest to me."

Jim couldn't argue with that. Besides, although he wouldn't admit it out loud, it did sound pretty fun.

"Well then, you're gunna have to choose one," He put his arms behind his head and scooted back, leaning the back of his head against the wall with his hands cradling it.

"I have already taken the liberty, Jim. In three days time we will be attending what I believe is called, the Phantom of the Opera."

"Phantom? Really? Isn't that like – crazy old?"

"That is, indeed, why I chose it. As a classic I assumed it will hold more value as a tool of learning Terran past. Another logical assumption was that the show is, in fact, the best show on Broadway as it has been running for approximately 300 years now, and no other performance has managed to do so."

"Makes sense," He smiled up at his First Officer.

"That is why I chose it, Jim," and he raised an eyebrow.


	6. Home

That night on the train was somehow easier to sleep through than the last. Jim didn't question it but instead decided to treasure the feeling he got, waking up feeling well rested for the first time in a long time.

"Attention passengers: we have arrived at Grand Central Station. I remind you all to remember to take all luggage and personal items. Please leave the train in an orderly fashion, and a merry Christmas to you all."

Jim got up first, well, popped up really. As much as he'd liked the quaintness of the train in the beginning, he was glad to be leaving now. Sitting still had never been one of Jim Kirk's finest talents. He quickly grabbed his luggage, made sure Spock was following after him – somewhat exasperated by Jim's enthusiasm – and made his way off of the train.

And into crowds of life. All around him there was dirty air and loud noises and the hum of existence that Jim couldn't get enough of.

He breathed in deeply.

He had always asked his mother to bring them into the city. Always. He'd known it was far and he'd known it was expensive but when he thought of the everlasting impression it had taken on society he couldn't help it. The place sounded like an immortalized haven for art and history and he wanted to be a part of it. But he was nine years old and they could hardly afford to eat dinner every night so it was out of the question.

He exhaled.

"If we could attempt to leave this highly populated area quickly, Jim, I would find it most satisfactory," Spock came up beside him and stood close to him, their shoulders touching. Jim turned to look at him and found his expression completely blank, his body tensed. Of course, Jim reminded himself once again, touch telepath.

"Yeah, of course, come on," he began leading them through the waves. Hoping to protect Spock from unnecessary bumping, Jim attempted to guard his body with his own, making sure to lead closely. They got a few double glances – well more than a few actually – but Jim tried to push through, refusing to make extended eye contact with any one of them. He didn't want them to ask questions. He could hear them in his head now.

"Are you James Kirk? Don't you captain the Enterprise?"

"Aren't you one of the youngest captains in years?"

"Didn't you stop the Narada two years back?"

"Is that your Vulcan first officer?"

And even worse was the idea in his head that they would talk to Spock.

"I'm so sorry about Vulcan."

"It was a great thing you did, it's a shame what happened."

"I hear they've started a new Vulcan colony, so that's good, right?"

"I just really feel your loss."

He didn't think he could handle that any more than Spock could. Though the people didn't know it, their condolences were fake. They didn't feel the pain the way he imagined Spock did. It hadn't been their home planet, hadn't been their people, their family, their lives. They could have no idea that a simple condolence from a stranger meant nothing and that the reminder was worse than the sentiment. That was the reason Jim had never formally said anything on the matter. It was Spock's grief and he had no right to it. Guilt was not the same as loss.

So he skirted away from strangers who looked like they might say something and tried his best to minimize Spock's contact with the rest of the world. It seemed to him as though it took hours to push through the dense crowds but Spock's watch told him, instead, that it had been a mere twenty minutes from the moment they'd left the train to the moment they'd stood blinking in the smog covered sun. Jim moved away from his first officer now, deeming the protective position to be unnecessary as the amount of people had severely thinned once they'd left the building.

"Where to?" Jim asked with a wide smile, trying to take in the buildings and the traffic and the colors and the warm feeling he got in his stomach when he saw Spock silhouetted against the busy street.

"I predict that our best choice of action would be to locate an appropriate residency which we may inhabit for the coming weeks." Spock still sounded stiffer than usual and his nose had tinged green, along with the tips of his ears. It was cold, Jim realized, freezing even. The wind whipped through the streets and blew his hair back, causing him to squint against the tears that formed in his eyes from the force of it.

"No way, first we're getting you a hat and some gloves. Then we'll get a hotel." Jim watched as Spock involuntarily shivered, looking as though he hated his body for betraying him in such a manner. Jim laughed quietly to himself. One hand shoved in his pocket and the other towing his suitcase, he made his way down the sidewalk and easily found a cheap clothing store.

A bell above the door jingled as they walked in to the blast of warmth. It smelled like cinnamon and gingerbread and the large windows out front were lined with garnish.

"Can I help you?" A kind looking old man sat behind the dark wood desk, his eyes wrinkled in a smile.

"Yeah, my friend here just needs a hat and a good pair of gloves, actually," Jim pointed his thumb back at Spock with a warm smile on his face. The man nodded knowingly.

"Gets chilly out there in the winter," he commented while leading them a short distance to the racks filled with winter wear.

There was certainly a lot to choose from. Pairs of gloves hung down the aisle with dozens of hats above them, some hand knit, some generic, some with long sides that hung braided. All of them were bright and stylish and all had matching gloves. Jim didn't know where to start.

"What about this one?" He said, grinning widely. He held up a bright blue hat with the words 'I NY' written in white box letters. Spock looked exhausted. "What? It would match your uniform," he shrugged his shoulders in defeat and placed the hat back in its place.

Jim looked at Spock again and saw that he really did look tired, beyond tired, he looked distraught. What a horrific thing it was to feel the wrench in his heart as he saw the blank stare and broken eyes that stared back at him. Jim gave up on his carefree attitude and decided the best idea probably was to get to a hotel as quickly as possible.

"We'll take these," he smiled kindly at the man, handing him a brown striped hat and plain gloves. He nodded calmly, walking them back over to the register and ringing up the two small items.

"That'll be 10 credits."

"Really?" Jim mumbled under his breath, taking out his card and handing it to the cashier. He handed it back shortly after, Jim took the small bag, and they left the shop. It was colder than Jim had remembered it being five minutes earlier. He shivered.

Pulling the hat and gloves out of the plastic bag, he handed them to Spock and rolled the empty bag up, putting it in his coat pocket. Spock gratefully pulled on the hat, which covered his ears easily, and put the gloves on shortly after. Jim thought he looked strangely vulnerable that way, all wrapped up and shivering. He found himself staring at the blood that had rushed up to his cheeks along with his nose. It really was cold out, especially for a Vulcan who was used to much warmer temperatures than that of even the hottest Terran summer. Jim tried to walked faster.

It wasn't long before they came across a hotel they both felt looked trustworthy, comfortable, and – most importantly – affordable. Jim was thankful for it. Spock had begun to look nearly ill.

He felt his face burn as it adjusted to the nicely heated hotel lobby, still dragging his single suitcase behind him. He walked up to the main desk, behind which a pretty blonde girl sat, and put on his best smile.

She looked up and blushed.

"How can I help you?" she sounded shaky.

"We need a room for two," he said, looking back at Spock. The Vulcan was standing less rigid, his body seeming to relax in the warmth of the room. Jim felt the sides of his mouth turn up slightly. He turned back to the girl.

"Sure thing," the blood had left her cheeks now and she was smiling knowingly up at him. Jim was slightly confused. "Single bed?" she asked pleasantly. Oh, Jim thought, that was why.

"No, no, double bed," he laughed lightly but felt his cheeks burn a bit more. She furrowed her eyebrows a bit, flicked her eyes back to Spock for a moment, and then looked back to Jim, a smile still on her face, "Sure thing."

Spock walked up behind him and even though they weren't touching, Jim could feel the heat that radiated off of his body. Vulcans' bodies ran at higher temperatures than humans', Jim reminded himself. For second there he had worried Spock might have some sort of super fever. Ridiculous.

"How long do you plan on staying?"

"Two weeks."

"Great, I have your room," she smiled again, looking between Jim and his first officer standing closely next to him. Her smile warmed slightly for a moment before dropping again to the professional politeness. She held a card out to Jim and he took it quickly, "Thank you," he said, brushing his hand against hers. She didn't blush, "No problem."

Jim led Spock away from the counter and into an elevator. Room number 407, the card informed him.

"Jim, you appear disappointed. May I inquire as to the cause?" Jim looked over and saw Spock staring at him curiously, well, as curiously as a Vulcan could. The disheveled expression had left him once they'd entered the hotel. He was probably just glad to be somewhere it wasn't freezing cold for an extended period of time.

"What? No, no, I'm not disappointed. Just tired," Jim ran a hand over his neck and looked up at the mirrored ceiling of the elevator. The color was finally leaving his face, his body adjusted to the new warm temperature. He looked back down at the card in his hand. Floor five. He punched the metallic button on the wall and watched as the doors crept closed. This was much slower than the turbo lift they had on board the Enterprise.

He felt Spock still looking at him.

"What? What's wrong?" he'd sounded much more aggravated than he had meant to.

Spock seemed surprised at Jim's unexpected hostility.

"There is nothing wrong, Jim," he responded, sounding slightly confused.

"Then why are you staring at me?"

"I am merely observing you," he said with surprise, even a bit of embarrassment. He seemed to be saying "I wasn't staring at you what are you talking about I'm a Vulcan don't talk to me Jim."

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled bitterly. What was wrong with him? Spock wasn't doing anything wrong and he was probably hurting whatever feelings the Vulcan had. Wow, even his thought process was rude. He took a deep breath. And let it out.

"No, not whatever. I'm sorry; I don't know where that came from."

"Your sudden anger is likely an effect of your constant sleep deprivation. I am surprised you do not experience such outbursts more often," Spock had said it with concern, with a care he normally didn't give to most things, but that didn't stop it from annoying Jim. Maybe he was right, then. Maybe this whole hardly ever sleeping thing was getting worse.

"Great, so now you're diagnosing me. Writing me off," the doors to the elevator opened and Jim quickly walked out, looking down either side to figure out which way the numbers progressed. What was the room number again?

"You are fully aware that was not my intention," Spock responded evenly. How he ever put up with any of Jim's shit was beyond him. The poor guy had just wanted somewhere to be for Christmas, and now he had a bitchy captain to deal with.

"Yeah, I know," he sighed down to the floor.

Jim found their room easily once he had consulted the card again for a number. Room 407. He inserted the card like a key and the lock popped, allowing them both inside. Jim flipped a light switch to the right of the opened door and walked down the short hallway. It wasn't a very big room, but that was a given when you were trying to spend not a very big amount of money.

There were two beds separated by a small side table and a television propped on a dresser that sat perpendicular to both of the beds. It was a stereotypical hotel room from what Jim had experienced. He took the suitcase he had been towing since they had gotten off of the Enterprise and threw it onto the bed on the left, the one next to the large window that seemed to take up a whole wall.

Jim threw himself onto the bed along with his luggage and stretched his arms to the wall behind him, eyes closing for a moment.

And when he opened them again, he was curled on his side, shoes on the floor, the window shade closed. He shot up and looked around him. His suitcase was sitting on the floor next to him, his shoes placed next to it. The blankets were slightly ruffled around where he had been gripping them in a tight fist, but besides that appeared untouched. He glanced around the room further, finding the bed next to his completely empty, looking as though not a pillow had been touched since they'd arrived.

Spock. Where was Spock?

Jim found him sitting in front of his own bed, facing the doorway, legs crossed and eyes on him.

"I did not want to wake you," he said quietly.

Jim still felt disoriented as he looked at Spock. Around him. There were several candles lit, sitting on the dresser and Jim couldn't help but think that it was very calming. It smelled like well lived in homes and warm blankets out of a dryer and tight hugs from old friends.

"I'm glad you didn't, I need the sleep," he ran a hand over his face, "What time is it?"

"It is currently 21:37."

"Shit, it's late. You never ate anything, did you?"

"As a Vulcan, I require fewer nutrients as I am sure you are aware. I must express some worry for you, however, as you have neither eaten nor drunken anything since yesterday afternoon."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Jim covered a yawn with the back of his hand. His stomach grumbled loudly. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, well, there's a whole city. You wanna go get something? You look busy," Jim curled his arms around himself, sitting cross legged on the bed. Spock's eyes warmed fractionally.

"I had been meditating before you awoke but I will most likely not be able to continue with you awake, so, no, I am no longer busy."

"What? Am I too distracting for you?" Jim wiggled his eyebrows, a large smile on his face. Spock mentally eye rolled.

"Alright, well, if we're gunna go," Jim popped up on the bed, unwinding his arms from himself and threw his legs over the side, grabbing his shoes, "let's go!"

The streets weren't very busy in this part of this city. There was a slight flurry falling as they walked, slowly picking up into something more than a flurry. Jim hoped they could make it back to the hotel before it got bad.

"There's a vegan looking place," Jim said, gesturing with his elbow (his hands were staying firmly in his pockets) towards the café to their left. It had frosted windows and a warm brown color scheme. The bell chimed as they walked in and Spock immediately took his gloves off. He didn't seem to like keeping his hands covered.

"May I help you?" A bright smiling boy walked up to them, a plain black apron tied around his waist and two menus held in his hand.

"Uh, yeah, table for two?" Jim smiled back.

"Sure, right this way." Jim turned and made eye contact with Spock, raising his eyebrows. At least they have fast service, he tried conveying in the expression. Spock made no sign that he understood.

"Here you go," The kid pointed them towards a small booth in the back, placing the menus in front of each of them as they sat.

"Thanks," Jim said, picking it up.

"Can I start you off with some drinks?" He smiled pleasantly down at each of them. He was kind of pretty for a boy. Long eyelashes and rosy cheeks. Jim looked him steadily in the eyes and smiled, "I'll just have water. You, Spock?" he looked expectantly to his first officer.

"Water as well, please."

"Sure thing." He gave them a final nod and walked off towards the main counter. Jim watch him go.

"You find him physically pleasing," it wasn't a question.

"What?" Jim looked up in surprise.

"The waiter."

"No, no, he's just a kid," Jim felt his face going red. What was with all this blushing lately? This had to stop, it wasn't fun being able to be read so easily.

"I estimate he is in his early twenties, as are you, Jim."

"Yeah, alright, but I'm not gunna try and get in his pants if that's what you're implying."

"I was not."

"Yeah, okay." He laughed a bit, but suddenly felt very self-conscious. He himself hadn't even formally acknowledged that he had been checking the guy out. How could Spock possibly tell? "Just figure out what you wanna eat so we can get out of here before we're snowed in."

"The chances of that large a quantity of snow accumulating before we –"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It was an exaggeration. Sue me." Jim looked through their meatless sandwich menu and sighed. Nothing really sounded extraordinarily appealing to him. He could just have a cheeseburger and be fully satisfied, but they didn't seem to have that option open to him here.

"If you do not like the menu choice –"

"No, we're here, we're seated, we have water," Jim said this just as the boy returned, two condensation covered glasses in hand. He looked up at him, then back to Spock. Spock raised an eyebrow at his halted sentence and Jim felt his face flush once more. "We're not leaving," he picked up. The boy had a smirk on his face as he walked away. Dear God.

"Stop looking at me like that," he demanded of Spock over his menu.

"I am not sure what you are referring to, Jim."

"Don't act stupid, Spock. Of course you do." Spock remained quiet and Jim couldn't help himself. He began laughing. And he couldn't stop.

"I seem to have missed the joke," Spock's lips turned up minutely at Jim's laughter.

"I don't know," he said, smile still wide on his face, "I think I just like hanging out with you."

"Laughing is a most illogical response to such a revelation."

"Yeah, it is." Jim smiled grandly at him and the tips of Spock's ears turned ever so slightly green. He thought about those candles that had been lit when he first woke up in the hotel room and how this felt like they smelled.


End file.
